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“…Well, I guess that happens sometimes.”

In the underground district beneath the massive theme park—I broke through a decayed floor and reached the second basement level, then pulled my head back down through the hole I’d punched in the ceiling and muttered to myself.

I brushed debris off my shoulders and head and scanned the area.

Being able to tell what was around me even in pitch darkness made this set of specs feel downright unfair.

(Just occurred to me—technically, I’m classified as a weapon. So what was the concept? With stealth-type abilities and this eyesight, was I meant for infiltration? With this body?)

The punchline of “we didn’t think that far” felt disturbingly plausible for my homeland.

Or maybe the correct answer was simply, “We stuffed everything in,” but… if that was the case, then I didn’t even want to imagine how strong the genetically enhanced soldiers made after me must be.

For now, I wanted to get back up to the floor above, but the moment I grabbed the edge of the hole, the upper floor crumbled to pieces.

“Jumping up is a bad idea, huh.”

Honestly, all I could see was a future where I broke through the floor again.

So I had no choice but to lower my posture and plod forward.

This place had once been lined with restaurants—now it was an abandoned, dim, dust-choked goblin den.

Everything smelled like goblins, so relying on my memory of the guide board from earlier made for an uncomfortably uncertain outlook.

That said, thanks to that information, I made it straight to an escalator, so I won’t complain.

Just as I was thinking I’d go back up to the first floor, I heard yapping voices from below.

They were probably calling out a warning after spotting me, but the fact that it gave them away said everything about their intelligence.

I changed course from upward to downward and headed to eliminate the next command individual.

About twenty goblins blocked my way, but since they didn’t even qualify as stalling or buying time, I’ll skip the details.

I arrived at what used to be a fountain plaza on the third basement level.

Water had stopped flowing ages ago, and the queen sat there arrogantly after having them haul in junk to make her a bed.

Down here, ventilation was poor, so the stench was unbearable.

I threw a conveniently ripped-off chunk of exterior wall at the screeching lump of meat and completed the mission.

And then the goblins that had been blocking me all ran away in the same direction at once.

“…Still more?”

Given the scale of this place, it wouldn’t be strange if there were plenty left, but despite that, the number of ordinary goblins felt surprisingly low.

Meaning the turf war with the orcs must have been that intense.

When I glanced at a hanging ceiling clock that caught my eye, it was exactly 7 p.m., and I muttered, “So this is what overtime is,” before following the goblins’ trail.

“No—wait!”

I spun around and stared hard at the clock in the fountain plaza.

The second hand ticked along with a faint clicking sound—there was only one thing that could mean.

“The power generation facility is still alive.”

And that wasn’t the only shocking part.

A clock that still kept running even after two hundred years.

I had no idea how far off it was from the real time, but it was an achievement either way.

“Typical of my homeland,” I praised inwardly, nodding in satisfaction as I watched the moving second hand.

At the same time, a sudden question surfaced.

(Two hundred years… and yet it looks way too clean.)

It wasn’t like goblins were cleaning it.

Tilting my head, I kept staring at the clock.

It was a completely casual action.

I shifted my awareness and looked at mana.

And I definitely saw lingering traces—meaning some kind of magical measure had been applied to this clock.

“…What?”

A reflexive voice slipped out, as if questioning the conclusion my own mind had reached.

“No, it’s possible someone from another country happened to come through and cast magic on it. Or a mutant-born Imperial could’ve done it. It’s too early to conclude anything.”

And there was also the obvious question: why a clock?

There was no light, but I moved closer and examined it carefully—visually, it looked completely ordinary.

Yet when I tried to sense mana, it felt like there was something faintly present inside the clock.

I considered opening it, but if I tried to do it with these hands, it was obvious I’d just destroy it.

(But thinking calmly, it doesn’t make sense for it to run for two hundred years without maintenance.)

If I said that, then it was also absurd that I’d been asleep for two hundred years.

Still, there was a convenient phrase that neatly packaged and dismissed all that unnaturalness.

“…Did the Empire use magic in some form?”

A truly “magical” phrase.

But even that simplistic idea hit a snag.

(Rather than concluding they used “magic” directly, it’s more natural to think they scientifically analyzed mana—or succeeded in recreating it somehow—and used it in certain critical facilities…)

Thinking that way made it surprisingly easy to accept.

Limited usage could be explained by cost, and even if it was still experimental, that would also make sense.

Given how abnormally low both the spread and awareness seemed to be, either could be true… but that wasn’t the important part right now.

“Is there any way to get my hands on that technology?” I murmured, glaring at the clock while resting a hand on my chin.

I’d been close to giving up on making this place a new base, but depending on the situation, it might become worth the effort after all.

A plan began forming in my head—and the first thing I’d need to carry it out was?

“In the end, it’s still about eliminating other species.”

I started walking to resume extermination.

Thanks to the time I’d wasted, it took some effort to pick up the escaped goblins’ trail, but I successfully disposed of the fourth command individual, and this time, I confirmed the green things fleeing in all directions.

I pursued them just enough to thin their numbers and plant fear deep enough that they’d stop approaching this area.

If communication within the same species was possible—as it should be—then regrouping with other packs should produce some effect.

With my immediate objective achieved, I returned to the surface for now.

Outside was pitch-black, but compared to underground, at least there was moonlight, so it was better.

(More importantly—what I’m looking for is…)

I slowly scanned the surroundings, but there was no sign of anything like lighting anywhere.

If there was electricity, maybe—was what I’d hoped, but it wasn’t going to be that easy.

Going south to hunt orcs under cover of darkness wouldn’t be a bad option, but first, to uncover the secret of this theme park, I should look for the central management center.

If things went well, I could secure a facility with power.

And if that also meant using various electrical appliances wasn’t just a dream anymore, then it was absolutely worth taking this detour even if it meant forgetting my original goal.

“And of course, I want to rely on a guide board again, but…”

With aging and nature’s encroachment… even if I found one, the question was whether it would be readable at all.

Still, I had no choice but to search—because that’s how the world worked.

The moon hanging in the night sky hadn’t changed from then to now, so why did the world differ so much from my memories?